


Driven

by Maayacola



Category: Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-01
Updated: 2011-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 19:46:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1400248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maayacola/pseuds/Maayacola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jin doesn’t know why, exactly, he decided to become a taxi driver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Driven

Jin likes this job. He likes two things in particular—driving random places at all hours of the night, and meeting all sorts of bizarre strangers. He tries to guess their back-stories sometimes, figure out where they’re coming from and where they’re going. Sometimes it’s easy—the drunk salaryman who climbs into the back after hugging his friends goodbye and then slurs to his wife on the phone that he’ll be home soon. And sometimes it’s really hard—the quiet woman in her forties, dressed to the nines with a pensive look on her face, who asks to be dropped off in a seedy part of town and whose face doesn’t invite small talk.

Jin doesn’t know why, exactly, he decided to become a taxi driver. He knew from a young age that he was no prize when it came to book-smarts, and that most of the academic talent in the family had gone to his younger brother Reio. Jin isn’t stupid, but he’s not the type of guy you want operating on your brain, because sometimes he forgets where he’s put his cereal when it’s sitting in his lap, and he’s certainly not the kind of guy you want managing your hedge fund, because he really has no concept of numbers larger than a dozen, because that’s how many glazed donuts come in a box of Krispy Kremes, or how many eggs come in the box at the convenience store.

His mom had wanted him to be an idol, with his pretty face and his even prettier voice. She’d sent a photo of him into Johnny’s but Jin…Jin didn’t want to go. Jin didn’t have the attention span or the desire for pop-stardom; he was popular in school, and good at sports. Donning a sparkly suit and singing about rainbows like “those fags in Arashi” (as his friend Josh used to say) didn’t really hold the same appeal as donning a soccer jersey and scoring the game-winning goal.

Jin didn’t really think there was anything he wanted to do with his life, until he learned how to drive when he was seventeen. His dad had stalled on teaching him for months after his friends had started learning, certain that Jin was going to crash the car, or kill an elderly pedestrian, or something heinous, but Jin had turned out to be a natural. He drove through the neighborhood streets with the ease of a veteran, his eyes darting around corners noticing every danger long before his father could even process them.

Later, Jin’s dad boasted to Jin’s mom that Jin was going to be the best driver in the family. Certainly better than Jin’s mom, who sometimes backs her car into trees or runs into fire hydrants on clear, normal days for no reason. Jin, until then, hadn’t really been praised for much. (He’d never gotten any good at soccer.)

That’s maybe when Jin decided he might like to drive cars for a living. But Jin still doesn’t know what made him decide to become a taxi driver. But it’s therapeutic to stick his arm out the window at five in the morning and shake the ashes off his cigarette, and wait to see what mysterious stranger will climb in his taxi next.

***

Sometimes, some real whack-jobs get into the back of Jin’s cab. One time, Jin had to take home three men in chicken suits from the police station, and they had sang Irish drinking songs the whole way back to their house. And that lady that talked to plants and then listened to the plant’s answers. And that guy that thought his kitten was his girlfriend. And that clown…Jin shudders at the memory of the clown. He’s never looked at Poptarts the same, since the clown.

Tonight is shaping up to be one of those nights.

The chick that climbs in at three am is screaming into the phone at someone, her boyfriend maybe. Her hysterical shrieking is audible before she even opens the back door, and Jin winces at the sound of her voice. He looks into his rearview mirror as she slams the door. Her mascara is running down her face as she drunkenly sobs into the mouthpiece, her acrylic nails digging into her own palm.

“Where to, Miss?” Jin asks, dropping his cigarette onto the road and buckling his seatbelt. He revs the engine and starts the fare-counter, looking calmly back at her, trying to radiate the kind of big brother persona that usually calms these types down.

“Do you know Lakeview Apartments?” she asks, and Jin nods, barely resisting the urge to give a low whistle. Pretty ritzy part of town, and yeah, he knows it. Takes a lot of drunk businessmen back to the area from the red light district on Thursdays. It feels like he’s running a shuttle bus when he does that beat, so a lot of times he’ll stick closer to the baseball stadium, for a little variety in his customers.

“Got it,” he says, and takes off. Jin takes the quick route—he likes the way the streetlights flash on the freeway, and the empty roads that let him drive just a little higher than the speed limit. Jin likes to drive fast, just not too fast, because that’s when…that’s when accidents happen. He supposes they can happen when you drive slow, too, but Jin doesn’t really have experience with that. And he can’t resist just a little speed, and loves the way the wind blows his long hair back and tickles his eyelashes through the open window. He loves how he feels like a bird, soaring for the brief moment he’s got his foot on the gas. He loves how he’s in control of this massive machine and it does his bidding twelve hours a day, every day. He loves how when he’s rushing down the freeway, he’s not Akanishi Jin, he’s just a blur in the midst of hundreds of blurs, going somewhere that only he knows. Sometimes he feels like it’s all a race, but there’s no winner at the end, not really. Only the return of reality when he pulls the car to a stop at his destination. There’s no race here.

The girl’s sobs have quieted when Jin reaches the apartment complex. She’s just sniffling now, her eyes—they’re really pretty, her eyes, he notices in the mirror—glassy with unshed tears and her lips still quivering. “Have you ever been in love?” she asks him when she hands him the fare, hand trembling.

Jin thinks about the roar of a 340 cubic-inch V-8 engine humming around him. “Yes,” he says, but then his hand clenches around the money, crushing it. “But not with a person,” he adds. He looks up at the girl and smiles. “But I’ve been told love has its ups and downs.”

The girl offers him a watery grin. “I don’t know why I keep coming back,” she says. “But I guess the only thing it could be is love.” She looks forlornly up at the apartment building, her eyes focusing on a lit room. “I’ve tried to leave, many times, but it’s like…no matter what, I can’t forget the thrill.”

Jin knows the feeling. His hands grip the steering wheel tightly, and the girl smiles. “Thanks for the lift,” she offers sardonically. Her mascara looks like melted chocolate around her eyes, and has bled all the way down her cheeks, marring her smooth skin in a way that Jin finds disturbing, for some reason.

“Be careful,” he yells out the window as she walks away, for some reason, and the girl doesn’t turn around before walking into the building. As she’s walking in, a man walks out, brushing past her. He waves at Jin, just as Jin is about to drive off. Jin takes his foot off the gas, and waits.

“Oh thank God,” the man huffs as he scrambles into the back seat. He’s wearing sunglasses that obscure his face, even though it’s the middle of the night and the sun’s got about 4 hours before it starts to climb its way into the sky. “I thought I was going to be late for work! My car won’t start.” The man is frowning down at his designer watch. It’s horrific, Jin thinks, all pink and sparkly and clashing with the man’s dark designer jeans and snappy blazer. Jin’s own track jacket looks shabby in comparison.

“And where might work be?” Jin prompts the man with a little grin. The stranger in his car is clearly flustered, and Jin thinks it’s pretty cute. He likes it when interesting people get in his cab.

“Ah,” the man says, “right. Do you know where Minamoto-cho is?”

Jin hums thoughtfully to himself. “Near Kinokuniya?” he asks finally, as the man shifts behind him.

“Yes!,” the man says quickly. “Actually, if you drop me there I can walk the rest of the way.”

Jin raises an eyebrow at the man in the mirror. “I could just take you to your job if you give me directions,” Jin replies, and the man shifts anxiously.

“No, that’s quite alright,” the man says, finally, and Jin shrugs and revs the engine. It’s quiet in the car as the man thumbs through phone aimlessly, and Jin turns on the radio. Some crap pop song is playing, and Jin sings along because it’s catchy.

“You’ve got a pretty voice,” the man in the back says, and Jin flushes. “It’s really good. You’re hitting all those high notes.”

“You into music?” Jin offers, and the man is quiet for a minute.

“Yeah, I like it,” he finally says, and Jin grins at him.

“My mom wanted me to be an idol.” The man in the back starts, his fingers tapping nervously on the leather seat. He chuckles a bit, and Jin likes the sound of his laugh. It’s kind of smooth, and rippling, and makes Jin feel a little warm inside.

“Mine too,” he says, and in a flash of streetlights, Jin can see that the man’s hair is a rather startling shade of blond, and that it’s a bit curly.

Jin cracks a grin. “Moms are crazy,” he says, and the man grins back. Jin stops at a traffic light, and takes a minute to rest his eyes on his passenger. Something about him oozes charisma.

“Yeah,” the man agrees. “Crazy.” Jin thinks the man might be looking at him, but he can’t tell through the sunglasses.

“Why are you wearing sunglasses?” he wants to ask, but he doesn’t know if it’s appropriate to question the sartorial habits of his passengers. So instead he asks “What kind of car?”

“What?” the man questions, his fingertips pausing their repetitive tapping motion.

“What kind of car do you drive?” Jin repeats, and then smiles back at the man. “I like cars,” he says by way of explanation.

“Toyota Lexus,” he answers, and Jin makes a delighted sound.

“Nice engine in those!” Jin says excitedly, and the man laughs awkwardly, and it’s a really good laugh, Jin thinks again. “Nice maneuverability too. Takes turns well.”

“I don’t know shit about cars,” he replies and drags his hand through his wavy hair. “Like, I liked the way it looked, so I bought it.”

Jin’s mouth quirks. “As good a reason as any.”

“If you like cars so much, why are you a taxi driver?” The man asks curiously.

Jin bites his lower lip. “I drive all night long, every night,” Jin says. “This is a great job.”

“As good a reason as any,” the man echoes, and they both laugh, just a little. “I haven’t been in a taxi in years.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin lilts, and the man finally smiles a real smile at him.

“Yeah, I like to drive my own car,” and Jin nods in understanding. Being behind the wheel is power. Jin respects people who like driving.

The man’s phone rings. “Yamashita,” he says, as puts the phone to his ear. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon,” he says into the phone, leaning back against the seat and lolling his head to the side. “My car wouldn’t start so I had to catch a taxi.” The voice on the other end starts yelling, and the man, Yamashita, Jin corrects in his head, holds the phone a bit away from his face. “Relax, it’s fine. No problems. Do I look like Kamenashi to you?” Yamashita and whoever’s on the other end of the line share a chuckle, and then Yamashita looks out the window. “I’ll be there in ten. Can you explain to Ryo before I get there so he doesn’t climb up my ass?” Jin likes the way Yamashita’s eyes follow the scenery—he’s the sort of man who has trouble being a passenger, Jin can tell. “Kay, bye Koyama.”

Jin is pulling up in front of Kinokuniya Books now, and pulling over. “Are you sure I can’t take you all the way, sir?”

The man smiles softly, and shakes his head. “It’s best if you don’t,” he says. “Thanks, by the way, you were a real life-saver.”

Jin winks. “Just doing my job.” Yamashita hesitates when he hands over the fare.

“I don’t suppose you…” Yamashita shakes his head. “No, never mind,” he says.

“You’ll never get anyone to say yes to anything if you never ask,” Jin quips, and the man’s eyebrows lift above his large glasses. Jin really wishes he could see the man’s eyes, to see how they fit in his almost perfectly sculpted face. In the glowing lamps, his cheekbones look carved from marble.

“Well, I don’t suppose you take appointments? I might need a ride home, and…this was nice.” Jin grins at him.

“Is that all?” He fishes a card out of his cluttered dashboard, and offers it to the man. “Call me and I’ll pick you up. As long as it’s after six. I sleep from 6 AM to 6 PM.”

Yamashita beams. “Thanks.” He hesitates again. “What’s…your name?” He looks almost frightened to ask, and Jin doesn’t really get it.

“Akanishi Jin. And you’re Yamashita, according to how you answer the phone.”

Yamashita bites his lip. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Alright then, Yamashita, I’ll see you later,” Jin says, and then shakes his hair out of his face, pushing his bangs back.

Yamashita finally climbs out of the cab, but looks back at Jin one last time. His mouth parts as a passing car illuminates Jin’s face for the first time. “Your mom was right,” he says a little incredulously. “You do kind of look like an idol.”

“It’s just the hair,” Jin mutters. “My one vanity. I look awful with short hair.”

Yamashita nods, and then shuts the door. Jin watches him dash off, wondering what he does for a living that has him going at this time of day.

Jin thinks tonight was alright. He looks at the dash. Four-forty. A man in zebra patterned pants is flagging him down. One more crazy tonight, and then Jin is going to bed.

He bites his lip. And then, later, he’ll pick up Yamashita.

As he drives his last customer home, the freeway feels a lot like the straightaway. He can see the checkered flags in the distance, showing him the finish line.

***

Yamashita’s face is scrubbed pink when he gets into Jin’s taxi at seven-thirty that night. The air is humid, and Yamashita is wearing a knit hat anyway. The sun is setting, but the sunglasses are still firmly perched on his nose.

“Hello, Akanishi,” Yamashita says, and Jin tingles at hearing his name in that voice. It really is a nice voice, Jin thinks. Not nice in the traditional way, but it’s a very recognizable voice. Jin can see him better in this light, and he notices that the voice is coming out from a perfectly shaped mouth. Yamashita yawns, and sinks into the seat. “Home please,” he says, and Jin nods.

“Long day, Yamashita?”

“The longest,” Yamashita mutters. “I love my job, and I hate my job.” He scratches his ear, and then frowns down at his lap. “Do you like your job?”

“Yeah,” Jin says, because he does. Just driving and driving, all day, and getting paid for it. “I really do.”

“That’s good,” Yamashita says. “Must be nice, to be doing what you wanna do, without strings attached.”

Jin frowns. It’s not quite how he sees it.

“I like what I do too,” Yamashita says through another yawn. “But sometimes I wish I did anything else.” He pulls his hat down over his ears now, making little tufts of permed hair stick out strangely at the edges. “How long have you been a taxi driver?”

“About a year,” Jin replies.

“How old are you?” Yamashita is more talkative than he was this morning, Jin thinks.

“Twenty-six,” Jin answers.

Yamashita nods. “A year older than me, huh? What did you do, before you were a taxi driver?”

Jin’s lips press into a line. “Another job.” His voice probably sounds cold, but Jin likes talking about now, not then.

Yamashita looks at him, a little quizzically, Jin thinks, but he can’t tell because of the goddamned shades. “Oh,” he says. “Okay.”

Jin tries to restart the conversation. “What do you do?”

Yamashita inexplicably flushes. “Oh this and that,” he says. “I’m sort of a…freelancer.”

Jin nods. “Cool.”

Yamashita grins. “It’s cool sometimes,” he says, and then he’s quiet. “Aren’t you hot in that jacket?”

Jin shrugs, and Yamashita leans back.

He dozes off for the rest of the ride, and Jin gets out of the car to shake him awake when they get to Lakeview. Yamashita groggily shakes himself, then stares at Jin as he slowly comes fully awake. “We’re here,” Jin says softly, and smiles slightly.

“Thanks,” Yamashita says, his voice husky with sleep. He tilts his head to the side slightly though, when he sees Jin from a certain angle. “Why do you look so familiar?”

Jin frowns and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I dunno,” he mumbles, and Yamashita shrugs, shaking the thought away. He hands Jin the fare.

“Thanks, again.” Yamashita offers a last smile, and disappears into his building.

Jin thinks this was one of the more strange encounters he’s had in the past year. As he gets back into the driver’s seat, his baby purring to life underneath him, he wonders if he’ll ever see Yamashita again.

This time, when he restarts the car, he sees a glimmer of fire in the corner of his eyes, and his breath stops.

***

Jin’s roommate Josh is a mechanic. They’d been friends since they were kids, and Josh had moved to Japan with his family. Jin thought it would be cool to have an American friend, and he and Josh had communicated in pidgin Japanese and English until they’d both become more proficient in each other’s tongue.

Josh and Jin have perfectly opposite schedules that allow them to share two meals a day, where they catch up on each other’s lives. Josh has been particularly keen on seeing Jin as much as he can, ever since Jin’s accident. Like he’s afraid one day Jin is going to disappear.

“Had an interesting passenger today,” Jin tells Josh as they eat cereal at 6 AM. Josh is on his way to work, and Jin is on his way to sleep. “A real mystery.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin says around a bite of some nasty chocolate concoction that Jin might be slightly jealous of, but he knows he can’t eat that much sugar and expect to sleep.

“Yeah. Twice actually. He rode in my cab twice. Rich guy with interesting hair.”

Josh narrows his eyes. “What was interesting about him?” Josh has his hair pulled back with some kind of furry headband, and his t-shirt says ‘I <3 Japan.’ Jin thinks Josh might pass for an interesting passenger, if he didn’t already know everything about him.

“Real cagey about everything,” Jin says, and then shrugs. “I dunno, just thought he was interesting. You know people are the interesting part of my job.”

Josh is quiet, looking down at his cereal. “Are you really going to just be a taxi driver forever?”

Jin swallows the bite of cornflakes in his mouth. “What’s wrong with being a taxi driver?”

“Jin,” Josh starts, and then stops. He fishes around for words, but comes up empty. His brow sets in determination. “I just think it’s time you…”

“Stop,” Jin warns, hands gripping his spoon tight enough to bend it. “Just stop.”

Josh sighs, and stands up, depositing his bowl in the sink. “Fine, Jin. Do what you want.”

Now Jin’s cornflakes don’t taste like anything, but it’s not like they did in the first place.

***

One week later, Jin sees Yamashita again at a most unexpected place. He’s sitting outside the baseball stadium, waiting for a passenger to hop in, when he sees a man he’s pretty sure is Yamashita restraining a smaller, wiry looking man who is railing at a taxi driver. He can’t see Yamashita’s face, but the pink watch is a dead give-away.

Jin sighs and get out of the car, walking over. He recognizes the driver, an older guy by the name of Shinoda. Jin always runs into him after sports games. “What’s going on here, Shinoda?” Jin asks. Yamashita looks up at Jin’s voice, and he looks relieved.

Jin pauses to gulp, because he’s seeing Yamashita’s eyes for the first time, and they’re better than he could have imagined. Thick eyelashes frame the top and bottom of deep black pools, and the irises themselves reflect almost no light, making his eyes look almost like a doll’s. But the shape is an interesting one. His face is striking, Jin thinks. Gorgeous, in a strange and otherworldly kind of way.

“Akanishi,” Shinoda says gruffly. “This little guy has a reputation among taxi drivers, I won’t take him anywhere.”

“It was ONE TIME, and no one listened to my side of the story,” the smaller man huffs, and Yamashita’s face takes on a pained look of long suffering that brings a smirk to hover at the edge of Jin’s lips.

“I’ll take them,” Jin says to Shinoda, who growls and gets back in his cab. “You two, come with me.”

“Thanks, Akanishi,” Yamashita says, and Yamashita’s friend turns narrowed eyes on the both of them. Jin can’t resist gulping, because the little guy is intimidating, and on closer inspection he has really huge biceps and he looks strong. “Kamenashi here has sort of a bad track record with taxi drivers.”

“Shut up,” Kamenashi scowls. “Seriously, it was one time, and they act like I’m unstable.” Jin thinks he might be unstable too, with his black painted fingernails and bulging arms and crazy streaked hair. He looks like some wacky alien rock star, and Jin wonders if he’s going to start foaming at the mouth. “Nothing to say, taxi boy?” Kamenashi hisses at him. “Everyone else always has something to say, about how I offended your kind, or something.”

Jin frowns. “No, why would I? I don’t even know what you supposedly did.” Kamenashi pauses, and searches his face for deceit, or for something else, Jin doesn’t know what.

“Seriously? It was all over the news,” Kamenashi mumbles, significantly calmer now that he’s not being all defensive.

“I don’t watch TV,” Jin says plaintively. “If I’m not sleeping, I’m driving. Or walking my dog. Or playing with my niece, and the only shows she watches are magical girl anime shows. So unless you assaulted a taxi driver in one of those,” and Jin looks Kamenashi up and down, because taking a second look, the idea of Kamenashi being in a magical girl anime isn’t really all that ludicrous, “then I don’t know you from the next guy.”

Kamenashi appraises him all over again, and then squints at Yamashita. “So is this your pet taxi driver, Yamapi?” Yamashita flushes, and Jin bristles.

“You need to calm down,” Jin says, “or I’ll take Yamashita home in the cab and you can ride in the trunk until you adjust your attitude.”

Kamenashi’s mouth drops open, as if it’s been a long time since someone talked back to him. Yamashita looks like he wants to laugh but is barely holding it in. Jin’s just annoyed. Something weird is going on, and he feels like he’s missing a puzzle piece in this whole situation, but time is ticking. This is Jin’s job. “Do you guys need a ride, or what?”

“Yes, yes,” Yamashita says, and flushes again. “Sorry, we’re both a bit too tipsy to drive my car home.” Jin wonders if that’s why Yamashita’s eyes are so glassy, or if he just has naturally luminous eyes.

“So you’re just going to leave that pretty little Lexus here?” Jin questions, and Kamenashi is watching with his beady eyes. His thin eyebrows are slightly raised in confusion as to why Jin knows what kind of car Yamashita drives, but Jin doesn’t really care what Kamenashi thinks, because he’s sort of a prick, maybe just because he’s drunk, but Jin gets the impression he might just be a diva.

“Someone will pick it up later,” Yamashita says mysteriously. “Do you remember where I live?”

Jin smiles at him easily, because Yamashita has such a nice voice. Kamenashi gets sulkily into the cab. “Yeah, I remember,” says Jin, fingering his keys. “Let’s go.”

Jin has trouble focusing on the road, because Kamenashi is staring daggers at him and he just wants to keep looking at Yamashita’s face, to re-imprint it in his mind with those interesting eyes.

So he just sings along with the radio as he drives. “You have a lovely voice,” Kamenashi’s nasal tone reverberates through the car. “It’s quite pretty.” He sounds surprised at himself, and Jin’s surprised too. He smiles warmly at Kamenashi in the mirror.

“Thanks,” he says, and Kamenashi’s eyes widen before they narrow again calculatingly.

“He looks familiar,” Jin hears Kamenashi murmur to Yamashita as they climb out of the car. “Why does he look familiar?”

Yamashita frowns at Kamenashi, impatience tingeing his voice for the first time tonight that Jin has heard. “Go inside, Kame.”

He turns to Jin. “Thanks for everything, Akanishi. I appreciate the lift.” He shifts his eyes toward where Kamenashi is walking toward his building. “And your patience.”

Jin laughs. “Anytime, Yamashita. You can always call me if you need a ride.”

Yamashita’s smile is even better when Jin can see his eyes.

Jin’s heart hasn’t beat this fast since the last time--

***

Jin remembers the first time his dad took him to a specialty garage. All of the cars, lined up, in various states of construction. He remembers looking in awe at the engines, gleaming silver and looking so powerful—as powerful as over 800 horses working together.

Whenever Jin drives a car, he imagines it’s kind of like a chariot, drawn by that collective power.

Jin ran his hands over half-finished bodies and nitrogen tanks and cold, hard steel, and he never felt more like he belonged.

The smell of gasoline and smoke was an addictive cocktail, and Jin breathed it in with vigor. It only burned a little in his lungs.

Jin remembers seeing the finished cars, and itching to set their engines running, purring beneath him like an angry tiger. It’s the first time he fell in love.

***

Yuu’s house is always full of life, despite the fact that there are only two inhabitants.

Shirota Yuu isn’t really Jin’s brother, but after years of knowing each other, they’ve totally become family. Jin remembers the first time he met Jun and Yuu, who were both tall and awkward and totally uncool, and Jin was expected to make nice because their parents were close friends with his.

Jin doesn’t really remember how he felt then, because now he can’t imagine his life without them.

Yuu has a five-year-old daughter, from some affair when he was twenty, but Jin doesn’t know much about Lina’s mother, only that Lina is fucking adorable, and he wants to see her and play with her all the time.

Jin is playing with his niece when he receives a call from an unknown number on his cell.

“Hello?” he says, and then winces as Lina tugs particularly hard on his hair. She’s braiding it into a crown on his head, because “Uncle Jin has the best hair,” and apparently every grown man needs to look like a pretty princess in Lina’s world.

“Lina, Jin is trying to answer the phone,” Yuu says chidingly, and Lina frowns at him until he relents.

“Um, Akanishi?” asks a hesitant voice on the other end of the line, and Jin struggles to place the familiar voice.

“Yamashita?” he asks, a little surprised. Lina is pulling his head back, now, and Jin is trying to hold the phone up to his ear despite the distraction. “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry, are you busy?” Yamashita’s voice sounds a little high pitched, like he’s nervous.

“Not really,” Jin says. “I’m getting my hair coiffed.” He uses a posh accent, and it makes Yamashita laugh. “My niece slash hairdresser is being a little rough though,” he adds, and Lina giggles.

“Are you busy tonight? I need a ride home from my job at like three am.”

Jin smiles. “No I can do that. Where should I pick you up? Kinokuniya?”

Yamashita coughs. “No, Tokyo Tower this time,” he says, and Jin raises an eyebrow. “There’s never parking,” Yamashita elaborates.

“Sure. 3 AM at Tokyo Tower. Say…Parking Lot 4?”

Yamashita makes a sound of agreement. “Sounds good,” he says. “Thanks. You’re so helpful,” he adds.

“It is my job,” Jin replies, but doesn’t tell Yamashita that he rarely gives out his cell number to customers. “See you later.”

When Jin hangs up the phone, Yuu is staring at him. “Who was that?” Jin finds himself blushing inexplicably.

“Just a guy I drive sometimes,” Jin says, and Yuu looks hard at Jin. Lina is pulling hard on Jin’s hair, tiny fingers struggling to braid.

“You gave him your cell number?” Yuu’s voice is mild, but pointed.

“He’s…interesting,” Jin says, after a minute of silence. “I don’t know.”

“It’s good to see you coming out of your shell, Jin. We’ve all been worried about you, you know. You’ve become like a different person since—“

“Why does everyone always want to talk about it?” Jin says sharply, and Lina shrinks back at his voice.

Jin scoops her up into a hug, and then lays back on the floor, lifting her above him with his arms outstretched. “Don’t worry, Princess,” Jin says. “Your daddy is just being…nosy!”

Yuu groans. “Don’t start teaching her to make fun of my nose from such a young age!”

The tension is broken as Jin laughs at Yuu’s pained expression. “Well, she doesn’t have it, at least!” Jin retorts. “So she should get to tease you!”

Later, when Jin is leaving, Yuu stops hm with a hand on his shoulder. “No seriously Jin. When you were on the phone today, your eyes…it was like seeing you, you know, before.”

Jin looks solemnly at Yuu. “That me might be gone forever, man,” he says at length.

Yuu’s face is soft. “I don’t think so,” he replies. “I think we’ll all see him again someday.”

Jin has no answer. He just leaves.

***

Sometimes Jin sits and looks at pictures of himself, and runs his fingers over his own smile, and wonders how to get the light to come back into his eyes.

He thinks he knows that the answer is only to be found with his hands gripping a padded leather wheel, while the nylon of a safety belt cuts an X into his chest.

But that’s not really the answer he wants, so he keeps looking for another one.

***

Yamashita is carrying a large box in his arms when Jin pulls into the parking lot at 3 AM, Tokyo Tower lit up like a blazing beacon surging up into the sky. He looks like a prince walking toward Jin’s cab, with the way the lights lend him an ethereal glow even in the deepest part of the night. His face is streaked with shimmery make-up, and his eyes are rimmed with dark eyeliner. He looks even more striking than usual, especially in the dim light of Jin’s headlights. The box doesn’t seem heavy in Yamashita’s arms, but considering that Yamashita has these huge muscles that make Jin feel like a toothpick, he doesn’t know what that means about the box’s actual weight. A swath of bright fabric is sticking out of the top, glittering with sequins and rhinestones, and Jin raises an interested eyebrow at Yamashita, who has stopped in front of the taxi, shifting the box in his arms.

“You don’t even want to know what terrible things are in this box,” Yamashita tells him with a wry expression on his face. “Like, seriously, untold horrors.”

Jin snorts. “It looks like Aladdin is in that box.” He pops the trunk to the car, and climbs out. The night is humid and hot, and it feels like Jin has stepped into a steam room as he leaves the comfortable air conditioning of his cab.

Yamashita laughs heartily. “It would be better if there was someone in the box who could deal with its contents. Instead it’s just me and some of the guys.”

Suddenly Yamashita’s grip slips, and the box starts to tumble out of his arms, and Jin reacts out of habit. He catches the box almost immediately. Yamashita whistles. “Damn, your reflexes are fast,” he says, and Jin ducks his head. Of course he has fast reflexes, he drives for a living.

A breeze blows by, and Jin shivers a bit from the unfamiliar feel of air on his bare skin, and realizes he’s left his jacket in the car.

Yamashita’s eyes shift over to rest on him. “It’s like a million degrees out today. Are you cold?” he asks, and then his eyes focus onto Jin’s bared arms.

“What’s this from?” Yamashita says, fingertips ghosting over the scar revealed by Jin’s tank shirt. The mark extends down to his elbow and disappears up into his shirt. Jin shifts away uncomfortably, and Yamashita pulls back quickly. “It looks like a burn.”

“Reckless driving,” Jin says shortly, wishing he was still wearing his jacket despite the pulsing heat. He doesn’t look at Yamashita.

“You can speed in this taxi, Akanishi?” Yamashita asks, hand patting the car fondly. “Doesn’t seem like she’d be very fast.”

“I wasn’t always a taxi driver,” Jin says quietly, and he doesn’t want to talk about it. Yamashita gets the message, he must, because he closes the trunk without another word, leaving Jin staring into space as he climbs into the back of the car.

Jin shakes himself, and hops back into the drivers seat. “Home?” he asks, his voice genial, as if the previous exchange hasn’t just just happened. Yamashita is quiet for a moment, and then he seems to get the idea. “Oh, wait a minute. Two of my...friends are coming with us.”

“One of them isn’t Kamenashi, right?” Jin doesn’t really mind Kamenashi, but he’s something Jin’s shaken nerves don’t want to deal with right now.

Yamashita chuckles. “No, Kame doesn’t really work with us. We’re under the same umbrella, but we hardly ever do projects together. Ah! There they are!” Yamashita leans out the window, waving furiously at the two men who are approaching the taxi. “Here, guys!”

The two men pile into the back seat, and then in Jin’s rearview mirror, there are three shimmering, exhausted faces looking back at him. “Akanishi, this is Nishikido,” he says, pointing to his left, “and Tegoshi.” Both men are looking at Yamashita like he’s crazy, but Jin just shrugs.

“Nice to meet you,” Jin says, and then catches Yamashita’s eyes in the mirror. His lashes are thick and clumped together with the remnants of mascara, and Jin can’t help but stare, just a little, into those whirling dark eyes again. “Where are we headed, Yamashita?”

The small dark one, Nishikido, has his jaw a little open, but the other one, the cherubic-faced blond, has a calculating expression in his eyes. Yamashita seems oblivious to the atmosphere in the cab, and Jin’s still feeling a little off from the incident by the trunk, so he doesn’t know quite how to adjust it yet. “Take us to Shibuya, near the bars,” Yamashita says, and Jin chuckles.

“Had a rough day at your mysterious job, Yamashita?”

“You could say that,” he grins, and Nishikido is silent. But Tegoshi is flicking his eyes back and forth between them with interest.

“It looks like you’ve all been molested by clowns,” Jin quips as he starts the car and presses the button on the fare box to start that too. Nishikido snorts. “I FEEL like I’ve been molested by clowns,” he says, and that breaks the tense atmosphere, finally, as they all laugh. “I need three shots of tequila, a cigarette, and a sexy girl to dance with, in that order.”

Jin likes Nishikido much better than Kamenashi, he thinks, as he pulls out onto the main road. Someone who he could see himself chatting with easily. He can’t get a read on the other new guy, Tegoshi, but he laughs and jokes with Nishikido and Yamashita all the way until he turns onto a street that’s alive with people. 3 AM is not too late to start partying in Shibuya, and stereo-bass is filling the streets as people tumble in and out of bars and nightclubs. “Where do you want me to stop?” Jin asks, and Yamashita smiles. “Anywhere is fine. Here is fine. We can walk this whole area no problems,” he responds, and Jin nods.

Yamashita hands him a bill, and Jin counts out the change slowly, before he notices that Yamashita is nodding his head that it’s unnecessary. “Don’t worry about it,” Yamashita says. “And thanks for coming,” he adds. Nishikido is tapping his foot impatiently as Yamashita leans into Jin’s passenger side window.

“Yamapi, let’s go,” he says, and Tegoshi is quiet beside them.

“Alright, alright,” Yamashita laughs, and starts to move backward.

“Akanishi, why don’t you come with us?” Tegoshi says suddenly, and Nishikido and Yamashita look at him like he’s grown another head.

“He’s working,” Yamashita says, and Jin can’t see what expression is in his eyes but whatever it is makes Tegoshi look a little triumphant.

“You’re your own boss, right Akanishi?” Tegoshi says sweetly.

Jin grins easily, but his insides are coiled tight with discomfort and surprise. “Yeah, but I’m a harsh task-master, always cracking the whip. I’ve still got three more hours of work before I can even think about calling it a night.”

Yamashita’s shoulders unclench, and Jin feels a small quiver in his belly. Nishikido is staring at Tegoshi now, though, and that makes Jin uncomfortable too. Tegoshi leans into the window now, so only Jin can hear him. “Yamapi doesn’t make friends, Akanishi. I want to know what’s so special about you,” he hisses, and Jin wonders how many weird, questionably sane coworkers Yamashita has at whatever bizarre office he works at. Jin’s already counted two, and he swears he’s only met Yamashita like four times. Jin gulps.

“Nothing’s special about me. I’m just a guy who drives a taxi, and happened to pick that guy up one day.”

“And now he refuses to ride in any taxi but yours,” Tegoshi rebutts. “And before that, we couldn’t get him into taxis at all.”

Jin shrugs again, feeling like he’s sitting an exam but he doesn’t know any of the answers. “I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

Tegoshi nods, and pulls his head out of the car. “Alright, let’s go,” Yamashita says, and Jin drives off. But Yamashita, he notices in his side-view mirror, is still watching his cab even as he drives around the corner.

***

Sometimes, Jin wakes up screaming from his sleep, feeling like he’s burning alive.

Those nights, he gets up and examines his bare chest in the bathroom mirror, and runs his hands over the marred flesh of his torso. He traces the outline of the burn that covers his heart, and follows it to its end, right under his ribs. It’s like he’s touching his own mortality.

Jin never goes back to sleep on those nights, because he knows he’ll just have the same nightmare again and again, because it’s not a nightmare at all, it’s a memory.

***

“I looked you up on the Internet,” Yamashita says quietly, and Jin’s fingers clench around the steering wheel with some feeling he can’t quite place. “You’re a famous race car driver.”

“I’m a taxi driver,” Jin says, but he knows that Yamashita’s statement is also true.

“That’s why you look so familiar,” Yamashita continues. “Because you used to sell cornflakes on TV, and because my little sister used to have a poster of you on her wall when she was fifteen.”

Jin is biting his tongue so hard he thinks it might be bleeding. “I’m a taxi driver,” he repeats.

“How can you be happy as a taxi driver?” Yamashita demands. “How is this enough?”

“Because I’m alive,” Jin says. “Because I don’t want to race anymore. Because I can drive every day, and not wonder if this will be the last time I get behind the wheel of a car.” Jin’s whole body is shaking, and he pulls over onto the shoulder of the road. He gets out of the car and lights a cigarette. Yamashita gets out too. He stands next to Jin, back leaning against the taxi.

“Akanishi, why don’t you race anymore? Is the injury that bad?” Yamashita isn’t looking at him, and that makes it easier for Jin to speak.

“Because I just don’t want to race anymore.”

“And that has nothing to do with your near-fatal accident?”

“No, I’m totally fine,” Jin says. “Just burns on my shoulder and arm. No nerve damage. Nothing that would keep me from—I just don’t want to race.”

“So you’re afraid? Lost your taste for it?”

“Why are we talking about this?” Jin asks, putting his cigarette out and lighting another. His hair is sticking to the back of his neck with sweat. Even in the middle of the night it’s so hot. Jin doesn’t take of his jacket, because he can see his scars even with it on.

“I’m curious,” Yamashita replies, still pointedly looking into the distance, and not directly at Jin. “I’m so curious about you. I want…I think I want to be your friend, but sometimes I can’t understand you.”

Jin scowls. “Look, I didn’t search you on the Internet to find out whatever it is about you that you don’t want me to know. That’s not how friendship works.”

Yamashita winces. “I’m sorry,” he says, and then he gets in the car. Jin gets in five minutes later.

“It’s okay,” he says, and looks into his mirror to meet Yamashita’s eyes. “I just…can’t talk about this. Not yet.” Yamashita nods, and looks down at his hands.

“Jin, about me. I…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Jin says. “I don’t need to know all your secrets. I can be your friend without it, whatever it is. You must have a reason for not saying. I’ll trust you that it’s not illegal, and leave it at that.”

Jin revs the engine. It’s not a racing engine, but it’s steady and strong. Jin thinks engine purrs are like his heartbeat, pushing the blood through his body because this is the thing he’s good at. The hum of the machine gives him the courage to look at Yamashita again. “It’s not illegal, right?”

And Yamashita grins. “Not at all,” he answers, and they smile. Jin drives a little faster than usual, and pretends not to notice how Yamashita watches his hands shifting the gears.

“You want to get some donuts?” Jin asks, into the comfortable silence.

“Only if they’re Krispy Kremes,” Yamashita answers, and Jin beams at the open road.

Jin’s taxi is not a race car, but Jin knows how to coax her faster and faster, and Yamashita is lounging unconcerned in the backseat. “Is it okay to drive this fast?” Jin asks.

“I trust you,” Yamashita says, and adrenaline coils in the pit of Jin’s stomach, just like it used to when he was about to challenge a track record.

 

***

“Hey Jin, can you pick me up? I can’t get to my car,” Yamashita breahes heavily into the phone, and Jin is sitting on his bed in his pajamas about to go to sleep but he can’t say no. 

“Yeah, where are you?” he asks, and Yamashita huffs out a quick answer. Jin knows the place, and he doesn’t bother to change, just throws on a sweatshirt and a baseball cap and heads out the door.

When he finds Yamashita, he’s surrounded by about thirty people waving cameras in his face and shoving microphones closer to him in case he says something. He’s got his arms up around his face and he’s glancing around anxiously. His eyes light up when he sees Jin’s car though, and he sort of shoves through the throng of people and half-jumps, half-crawls into the backseat. “Oh thank God,” he says, and Jin is reminded of their first meeting.

“Where to?” he asks, and Yamashita presses his lips into a thin line.

“Not my apartment,” he says, and scratches his neck. “There will be more of them—“ he gestures at the crowd of reporters and photographers. “More of them at my place. Anywhere else.”

Jin thinks for a minute. “Okay, I know a place,” he says, and he takes Yamashita to his apartment.

“Where are we?”

“Yeah, I live here,” Jin says, and Yamashita’s eyes widen, but then he sighs, a tiny relieved sigh. “I figured they might not look for you here, of all places.”

Yamashita nods.

Yamashita is shaking as Jin unlocks the door to his apartment, and Jin looks at him calmly before leading him right to the futon in his living room. He pulls it out into a bed, and they both lay down side by side, about two feet between them.

“I’m really afraid of those people,” Yamashita says quietly. “I’m really afraid of them.”

“Why are the paparazzi following you?”

Yamashita exhales. “I’m an idol. With Johnny’s.” Jin snorts, but Yamashita’s face is serious.

“Wait, really?” It’s like all the pieces of the puzzle click into place all at once. Yamashita’s weird hours, his strange outfits, his hair. The way he nervously keeps expecting to be recognized. The reason why Jin can’t drop him off directly at work.

“Yeah,” Yamashita says. “Yeah, really,” and then he’s laughing but then his laughing turns into some sort of dry sobbing, and he isn’t crying but Jin wants to hug him anyway. Jin doesn’t, because it would be weird and he doesn’t even know Yamashita’s first name. “My co-star from my newest movie just killed himself,” Yamashita says. “And I’m supposed to know why? I’m supposed to have something to say?” Yamashita clenches his hands in Jin’s sheets. “I don’t know why,” Yamashita continues. “I didn’t know him very well. He was just a coworker. But anything I say will be blown out of context. It’s best if I don’t say anything at all for a while.”

“You’re a movie star?” Jin asks dumbly, because really, how did he not recognize a movie star?

“I’m a singer,” Yamashita says. “In the band NewS. You sing along to my voice in the car sometimes.” Yamashita is staring at the ceiling, his voice becoming more steady and the quivers in his body calming minute by minute. “I sometimes do dramas and movies.”

“I guess that’s why you wear sunglasses at night,” Jin muses aloud, and Yamapi laughs at him incredulously.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“No matter how famous you are—“ Jin starts.

“I’m really, really famous,” Yamashita interjects, turning his head to look at Jin, and Jin narrows his eyes at him.

“Anyway, no matter how famous you are, you’re still the dork with the stupid perm who doesn’t know anything about his own car that’s laying on my bed hiding under the covers because he’s afraid of some people with cameras.”

Yamashita grins at him weakly. “I guess I am,” he says softly.

“We’re both pretty messed up, huh?”

“Tell me about your accident,” Yamashita says, and Jin’s stomach rolls.

They don’t speak for minutes, and Jin feels restless, that itch to be behind the wheel tingling in his arms and chest. “Let’s go for a drive,” he says at last, and Yamashita looks at him, and then closes his eyes. “Okay,” he agrees. Jin grabs the keys to his personal car, a black Honda Civic that’s seen better days.

Yamashita gets in the front passenger seat, and Jin realizes it’s the first time they’ve been side by side in a car. He likes it.

He drives for three hours until they’re far on the outskirts of town. It’s noon when Jin stops for gas.

“Where are we?” Yamashita asks, his voice thick with sleep. Even with the dark circles under his eyes, and his terrible perm askew from the strange angle he slept on it, Yamashita is beautiful.

“We’re not there yet, Yamashita. I’m just getting gas.”

‘But where are we going?” Yamashita stretches and stands next to Jin as he pumps the gas. “And call me Yamapi. Or Tomohisa. Not Yamashita.”

Tomohisa. Jin rolls it around in his mouth. Tomohisa. Yamashita Tomohisa. Yamapi. That’s what Kamenashi called him. Yamapi.

“Okay,” Jin says, “But you have to call me Jin.”

Yamashita…Yamapi’s mouth twitches. “You’ve been Jin in my head for a while,” he admits, and Jin feels a flutter in his chest, one he knows shouldn’t be there, can’t be there, but he can’t help it.

When they reach Jin’s destination, Yamapi surveys the scene with an open mouth. “Wow,” he says. “Jin, this is beautiful.”

“This is near my hometown,” Jin says, and closes his eyes. This in Jin’s favorite smell in the whole world—the smell of wheat blowing in the summer breeze. He likes it even more than the smell of engine oil, because it reminds him of playing soccer with his friends, of childhood, of free summers and of being happy. Whenever he smells this smell Jin can imagine being happy again someday.

“It’s…wow,” Yamapi says again, and Jin laughs, and gestures to Yamapi to follow him.

Jin leads Yamapi to the center of the wheat field, and plops down, laying on his back and spreading his arms wide, as if he’s trying to embrace the sky. Yamapi stares at him for a moment, before mimicking him.

“I came here a lot to think, in the first couple of months after I got out of the hospital,” Jin says, breaking the silence. He can’t look at Yamapi, he can’t look at him and talk about it at the same time. This is the first time Jin’s even tried to talk to anyone.

He’s thought about it a lot. Here, and driving in his taxi around the entire city of Tokyo, wondering what he’s going to do with the rest of his life if he can’t race. Driving a taxi is good, but it’s not racing. It’s interesting but not enthralling. It’s like racing is Jin’s first love, and driving a taxi is his rebound chick. He knows he can’t drive a taxi forever.

“I’m a really good driver,” Jin says. “I’m always in perfect control of the car. Always.” He gulps. “But that time, I wasn’t. I don’t know what happened.”

Jin’s hands sink into the soil, squeezing it tightly and feeling it slide up under his nails and cling to the lines in his palm.

“The next thing I can remember is being on fire. Burning and I couldn’t breathe, and the smoke was closing in around me. I thought I was going to die.”

Jin can still feel it sometimes. He still feels like his skin is on fire, like his lungs are fighting harder and harder to glean oxygen from the heavy, clouded air. Like he has to claw his way out all over again.

The words stick in his throat, but he forces them out. “It’s fine when I’m in a regular car,” he says. “But when I’m in a stock car…” Jin shudders. “But I want it so bad,” he whispers. “I want it so bad.”

Yamapi rolls over, and Jin finally looks at him, and he’s so close. He’s just staring at Jin, his eyes fathomless and black, so black, that Jin feels like he’s going to sink into them and emerge in another galaxy.

“I guess we both need to be brave.” Yamapi whispers. Jin closes his eyes, and the smell of the wheat envelops him in peace. Yamapi throws an arm over Jin’s waist, and Jin can feel his sweaty skin even through his t-shirt.

“Sometimes I hate that I have no control.” Yamapi’s breath is hot on Jin’s shoulder. “Only people watching me.” Yamapi’s voice sounds smaller than Jin has ever heard it. “Someone died, and instead of mourning, and letting his family mourn, they’re hunting me down to see how I feel?”

“Like a really fast car,” Jin says, his hands still clawing at the dirt. “You can’t control it at all.”

“But I’m in the passenger seat,” Yamapi says. “Someone else is driving and it’s terrifying.”

Jin’ eyes are staring at the blue sky above him now, fixing on a cloud that’s shaped a bit like a stock car, rounded top and weighted wing on the back.

“When I’m with you, though, I feel like I’m behind the wheel. Because you don’t expect anything from me. It’s nice.” Yamapi chuckles, and the sound reverberates through Jin’s ribs. “Maybe I should quit being an idol.”

“What would you do?” Jin asks.

“Maybe I’ll become a bus driver,” Yamapi replies, still chuckling. “What do you think?”

Jin turns his face toward Yamapi’s. It’s so close they can feel each other’s breath as they exhale. Jin’s stomach is suddenly in knots, and he realizes he wants to kiss Yamapi.

But he can’t summon the courage to cross the slight distance. It’s just like the idea of climbing into a race car again, for Jin, in that the idea fills him with paralyzing terror.

Jin is such a coward. “You should do whatever you want.”

They drive back to Tokyo in the middle of the night. When Jin stops in front of Yamapi’s apartment, there are no paparazzi waiting for him. “Thanks,” Yamapi says, and Jin smiles.

“No problem,” he says, and then lights a cigarette.

“How much was fare?” Yamapi asks, and Jin’s smile tentatively gets a bit bigger.

“This one was on the house.”

There’s something, in Yamapi’s eyes, something that makes Jin want Yamapi to get back into the car, something that makes Jin’s blood feel like liquid fire. But Jin has a fear of burning alive. ”I’ll see you,” Jin says thickly, and hands shaking, he starts the car. The engine revs to life, and Yamapi steps back as Jin drives away, his figure becoming a shadow in the streetlights.

***

Jin drags Yuu and Josh with him to see Yamapi’s movie. Yamapi doesn’t tell him about the movie, but Jin, now that he knows to look for it, sees Yamapi’s face everywhere.

He finds out about the movie when he’s buying a coke at the convenience store at 2 AM. The trailer is playing on the mini-TV in the window, and Jin wants…Jin wants to know what Yamapi does. He wants to see him doing what he loves. He wants to know why Yamapi sticks with it all, even when it makes him so miserable sometimes.He wants to know what he should say the next time Yamapi asks him if he should become a bus driver.

“What’s this about?” Josh bugs him when they’re in line for tickets. “This is so weird of you to want to see a movie.”

Jin bites his lip. “I just…want to see this one.” Jin flushes, because he sucks at being deceptive.

Josh’s eyes narrow at him, and Yuu is now listening to the whole conversation curiously. “Why are you blushing?” Josh asks with disbelief. “Do you have a crush on the main actor, or something? Don’t say just because, I always know when you’re lying.”

Jin turns an even deeper red, and he can feel Yuu and Josh exchanging glances over his head. “It’s nothing,” Jin insists. “You didn’t have to come,” he mutters.

Josh shakes his head. “You threw us into the car and told us we were going to see a movie. I was so confused at the idea of us doing something fun that I had no time to protest.”

“I do fun stuff!” Jin replies, but he knows it’s not true.

“Playing with Lina does not count, Jin,” Yuu says. “You drive a taxi, and sleep. You don’t go to movies on weekdays for no reason. We’re just curious.”

“I have a crush on the main actor,” Jin says, and they both laugh at him, thinking he’s joking to misdirect them. But Jin feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest to admit it.

“Okay dude, whatever,” Josh says, and they watch the movie.

It’s got a lot of big action scenes, and explosions, and drama, and there’s a romance plot woven through the whole thing, and Yuu and Josh rave about it the whole way home, but all Jin can focus on, the whole movie, is Yamapi’s eyes, which have this amazing ability to steal his every thought. Jin thought it only worked in person, but he was wrong. Those eyes are endless pools, and Jin gets lost in the depths.

***

Jin is driving Yamapi to a meeting. “I saw your movie yesterday,” Jin says, and Yamapi jumps.

“What?”

“I went to the theater, for a first time in a year, and watched a movie, and it was your movie.”Jin keeps his eyes straight ahead, and doesn’t even glance into his rear-view mirror.

Yamapi clears his throat. “And?” His voice is tight, and Jin can’t tell if he’s angry or nervous.

“Josh and Yuu loved it,” Jin says.

“Like I give a fuck. What did you think?” Yamapi asks, and Jin chances a look back. Yamapi is looking out the window, his exquisite profile glowing in the sun. Jin gulps. Yamapi, he notices, is biting his lip. Not angry, then.

“I think...you shouldn’t quit acting.” Jin doesn’t want to say that he liked how alive Yamapi’s eyes look on screen, that he loves the way his lashes flutter, and there’s so much emotion buried in them. That he felt the character’s pain just because he could see it, in those eyes, that seem dead at first glance but burn when you look closer. Jin thinks that might be saying more than should be said, more than it’s normal to say. “You’re good at it, and it would be a shame if you stopped, just because of the other stuff, the stuff out of your control.”

Yamapi meets his eyes in the mirror, and for Jin, it feels like an echo of the first time their eyes ever met, with a snarking Kamenashi pouting on the seat next to Yamashita. Jin feels the same butterflies, the same tight cord of destiny.

“Who are you to tell me that?” Yamapi asks, and his tone is light but his words hit deep.

“Yeah,” Jin says.

The rest of the trip is silent, until Jin pulls the car over at their destination, a quiet office building in the middle of a company complex. “My movie was the first movie you’ve seen in a year?”

Jin nods, swallowing hard. “Well, yeah. Cause...it was you.”

Yamapi smiles, and Jin smiles back. “You know,” Yamapi says, “I’ve got a CD that came out last month too.”

Jin scowls at him. “Get out of my car, salesman,” Jin says. “I’ve given enough of your money back to you this week.”

Yamapi laughs and gets out. “I’m going to dinner after this, so I don’t need a ride,” he says, handing Jin the fare. “But I’ll call you the next time I do.”

Jin goes and buys the CD between passengers, though. He can pick out Yamapi’s nasal voice easily amidst the 6 voices that make up Yamapi’s boyband. Yamapi is a better actor than singer, Jin thinks, but the songs are catchy anyway, and he drives his customers crazy all night singing about blood types and love.

***

Jin’s phone rings while he’s shaving at 2 PM on a Thursday.

“Let’s go for a drive,” Yamapi says without waiting for acknowledgement.

“Okay, I’ll come pick you up,” Jin says, but Yamapi makes a discontented sound into the phone.

“No, where do you live? I’m picking you up.”

Jin blinks, twice, and then tells Yamapi his address.

Later, when he’s climbing into the passenger seat, Jin’s brain catches up with it all. “Wait, where are we going? Why are you driving?”

Yamapi chuckles. “You always drive.”

“I’m a driver. It’s my job to drive.”

“This isn’t work,” Yamapi replies, and Jin sinks back into the soft seat. The engine of Yamapi’s Lexus purrs in front of them, but the ride is smooth.

“This is such a nice car,” Jin says, in lieu of asking more questions. Yamapi bursts into loud laughter, then shakes his head.

“You’ve got a one-track mind,” Yamapi says to him, and Jin’s looking at his jawline, and how the light is catching it and creating this haunting shadow that makes Yamapi look impossibly gorgeous, and Jin figures he’s got at least a two-track mind.

Jin takes out his phone, and Yamapi looks at it curiously. “I need to call my brother,” Jin says, “And tell him I’m not coming over today.”

Yuu answers after two rings. “Hey Jin, when you headed over?”

“I’m not,” Jin replies. “Something...came up.”

“Is everything okay?” Yuu asks, suddenly worried. “Usually I can’t keep you away from my daughter with a crowbar.”

Jin sighs. “Everything’s fine. I’m just...I’m doing something else today.”

Yuu chuckles. “Like what?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” Jin says, and Yamapi is laughing again. “Shut up, you,” he mutters at Yamapi, before he continues. “It’s all sort of an unexpected trip.”

“Who’s with you?” Yuu asks, and Jin can hear the confusion in his voice.

Jin looks over at Yamapi, who has both hands responsibly on the wheel and is watching the road with alert eyes. “A friend,” he says, and Yuu makes a thoughtful noise. “I gotta go. See you soon,” Jin adds, and then flips his phone closed.

Yamapi clears his throat. “So, that was your brother?”

Jin nods, and then vocally answers when he remembers that Yamapi is looking at the road in front of him. “Yeah, one of them. Actually it’s more like he’s a close family friend I grew up with. I have a younger brother, Reio, who’s in med school down in Kyoto.” Jin licks his lips, because they’re dry.

“I have a little sister,” Yamapi offers. “Her name is Rina.” Jin starts at the name.

“Yuu, the guy I was just talking to, has a daughter named Lina. She’s the one who was playing with my hair when you called that time.”

“Oh, did I interrupt a play date?”

“It’s okay,” Jin says. “Why are we doing this, though?”

Yamapi stops at the traffic light, and his hands fall from the wheel to rest on his thighs. “I have the day off,” he answers, and Jin nods. “And I had an idea. Where we’re headed isn’t much further.”

Jin relaxes into the seat. “This is so weird.”

“What is?” Yamapi says, as traffic begins moving again.

“Being in the passenger seat of a car.”

Yamapi laughs, and spares a glance out of the corner of his eyes to look at Jin. “It’s not for long,” he says mysteriously, and Jin closes his eyes, just feeling the car buzzing around him as it practically glides over the pavement.

“This is a really nice car,” he repeats, and Yamapi smiles to himself and turns up the music.

When Yamapi finally turns off the road and into a large empty lot, where there’s nothing more than a lot of open space and a warehouse, Jin looks at him in askance.

“What are we doing here?” He gets out of the car, and holds his hand above his eyes like a visor, gazing out into the distance. “There’s nowhere to hide my body, you know, except in that warehouse, and that would be the first place the cops would look.”

Yamapi doesn’t say anything, just rolls his eyes and tosses him some keys.

“Why are you giving me these keys?” Jin says dumbly, as they lay heavy in his hand. He balls them up into his fist, and then stares blankly at the man in front of him. Yamapi turns his head, motioning over to the small warehouse.

“Go look in there.”

“Okay,” Jin says, but he still doesn’t get it until he opens the rickety door. It’s a stock car. Maybe two or three years old, but freshly washed and probably just had the oil changed, judging by the smell in the warehouse. “It’s a stock car,” he says confusedly.

“So drive it. Drive it as fast as you can.” Yamapi looks at him solemnly. “Be in control of a fast car again, Jin. It’s just an old stock car, but…”

Jin swallows, and his throat feels closed. “Yeah?”

Yamapi closes his eyes. “Yeah. I think you should drive it.”

“What if I crash it?”

“You’re a race car driver, Jin. You’ve driven faster cars than this with no problems.”

Jin remembers how it feels to flip upside down inside of one of these stock cars, choking on the smoke.

“I don’t know if I can,” Jin admits.

“You want to, though,” Yamapi says, eyelashes stark against his skin as he closes his eyes against the sunlight.

“Why do you always have sunglasses at night but never during sunny days?” Jin says, and Yamapi frowns.

“I don’t have to hide my face from you,” he replies, and then puts his hand on the back of Jin’s neck. “And don’t dodge me, I’m being serious. Drive the car.”

“I want to but I’m scared,” Jin admits, finally. “Every time I think about getting into one of these cars I remember how it feels to not be able to get out.”

“All you need to do is get out this time.” Yamapi opens the passenger side, and pulls out a helmet. He tosses it to Jin, as casually as he had the keys, and Jin grunts as it slams into his stomach. It feels cold in his hands, but achingly familiar. He turns it in his grip so that the clear eye-shield is facing him. Jin can see his reflection in it. “Put it on. I’ll not hear any ‘no’s,” Yamapi says.

“How did you get this stuff?” Jin chokes out.

“I’m famous,” Yamapi says. “Like, really famous.”

Jin wants to punch him in the face, but instead he puts on the helmet.

Before he knows what’s happening, he’s sitting in the driver’s seat. His heart is beating faster than this car can even dream of going, and Jin turns the ignition. The spark of the ignition is the end of Jin’s inhibitions.

He expects it to be different, driving like this, with no passengers, no destinations, only a pulsing beat in his veins and a climbing reading on the speedometer, but it’s not. It’s just as he remembers it. It’s still just like flying, it’s still the most free he will ever feel. The car is sensitive to the slightest turn of the wheel, and Jin missed this, missed everything about it. The crippling fear that kept him from getting into a car again seems to be gone, and Jin doesn’t know what changed, only that maybe it took someone really pushing to make him realize that there was no reason to be holding back.

Maybe it took Yamapi not taking ‘no’ for an answer.

Jin pulls the car to a screeching, drifting halt, then jumps out of the driver seat. He lopes over to Yamapi, who is standing at watching him, leaning his back against the warehouse. The thrill of speed is still churning inside of him, racing through his body and sinking down through skin and tissue and muscle and then seeping through his bones.

He tackles Yamapi to the ground, straddling him and lacing their fingers together. Yamapi looks shocked beneath him, wide eyes and flushed cheeks, and Jin thinks he’s beautiful, so beautiful, like an unfolding blossom in the spring. Jin can’t stop the thrumming of his body, and he squeezes Yamapi’s hand even as he leans forward and rests his head in the crook of Yamapi’s neck. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice quavering with that indescribable feeling he always has after a race. “Thank you.”

Yamapi’s hands squeeze Jin’s back, his thumbs running soothing circles over Jin’s thumbs, and it feels like electricity. “You’re welcome,” he whispers back, and Jin just stays there, Yamapi strong and warm and necessary underneath him, until his body stops shivering.

Eventually, Yamapi pulls him up and drives him home, but that night, Jin can’t sleep, and all he can think about are the dangerous curves of the track, and an overwhelming need to cross the finish line first. He also thinks about Yamapi, but that’s not new anymore so he barely even notices amidst the smell of burning rubber.

***

Tanaka Koki doesn’t believe him the first three times Jin says his name into the phone. “Wait, who?” he repeats, and Jin sighs and runs his hand through his hair, his other hand holding the cell phone in a tight grip.

“It’s me, Koki. It’s Jin. I want to race.”

“Motherfucker,” Koki whispers, before he’s yelling out to someone else. “Maru! Maru, it’s mother fucking Akanishi Jin on the phone, telling me he wants to start racing again!”

“What?” Jin hears Nakamaru yell, and he smiles, because he knows the look that’s on Nakamaru’s face right now, as he tries to figure out if he should be excited or chastise Koki for his language.

“I mean, if you want me,” Jin adds, because he did just disappear for more than a year and refuse to take any phone calls related to racing.

“If I…? Akanishi, get your ass down to my track, and we’ll see if you still got it.”

***

Jin licks his lips and hands Josh and Yuu tickets while they sit at a coffee shop near Yuu’s apartment.

“What’s this?” Josh says, drinking some weird looking green tea milkshake while he twirls a piece of hair around his finger. His eyes are obscured by turquoise heart-shaped sunglasses, but Jin knows exactly what lazy expression his eyes are making.

Yuu stares at the two tickets in his hand, one for Lina and one for himself, with a puzzled frown. “These are race tickets.”

“Yeah, the Japan All GT Championship,” Jin replies, and Josh’s face takes on a more interested look.

“You’re going to a race, bro?”

Jin clears his throat. “...I’m racing in a race,” he says, and Yuu slowly puts down his coffee.

“What?”

“I’m racing,” he repeats, and then Josh whoops and slaps Jin so hard on the back he spits his coffee all over the table and Yuu is just smiling and smiling and Jin feels like he’s already won.

***

“I’m not going to drive taxis anymore,” Jin tells Yamapi the next time he picks him up from work at 5 AM. “This is my last drive.”

Yamapi takes a deep breath. “What are you gonna do?”

Jin looks at him in the mirror. Yamapi is wearing those sunglasses again, and Jin can’t meet his eyes, but it’s okay. “I’m not a taxi driver, you know. I was just doing this for a while.”

Yamapi grins. “What did you do before? I mean, what do you do?”

Jin taps his fingers steadily on the wheel to the beat of a NewS song on the radio. “I’m a race car driver.”

“Wow, that’s a cool job,” Yamapi says. “I’m more of a freelancer. I do this and that.”

They both laugh, and then Jin sings Yamapi’s part in the song, and Yamapi sings Tegoshi’s part, and Jin doesn’t want the ride to end.

Sometimes he feels like it wasn’t a coincidence that Yamapi got into his car that night, like maybe it was destiny or something weird like that, like Jin had gotten off track in life and Yamapi was who he needed to meet to get back behind the wheel of his own life.

He feels like that, but he can’t say it for some reason. He wants to be brave, but maybe he’s used it all up.

“If you get the chance,” Jin says, “you should watch my race on TV.” Yamapi looks at him and smiles faintly.

“I’ll do my best,” he says. “It’s a shame you’re going out of business. I really valued your hard work.”

Jin closes his eyes for a second, feeling like this is his last chance to say something, but…

“If you ever need a ride,” Jin says. “You can always call.”

This time, when Jin drives away, it feels like running away.

***

Jin Akanishi’s first race in 17 months results in a new track record, and the promise of many more feats to come.

Jin swears he can hear little Lina screaming from the stands, even with his helmet on and the roar of fifteen engines around him as he does a victory lap in his Nissan PXC.

***

Jin is shaking when he walks into the locker room. Shaking from his head to his toes, his whole body quivering with some mix of accomplishment and adrenaline and fear and reality catching up to him all at once. His suit is stuck to every inch of his body, plastered with sweat, and his hair is matted and damp from his helmet. He’s the last one back here-- the others have probably gone home ages ago, while Jin answers question after question about his long hiatus from racing, about his plans for future races, about his endorsement deals and about whether or not he has a girlfriend.

“Congratulations,” a familiar voice echoes through through the empty room, and Yamapi is sitting on one of the wooden benches in front of the locker. He’s wearing a simple v-necked black t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. His hair unstyled, hanging loose and hairspray free around his face in soft, curling tendrils. Jin feels his throat go dry, and it’s not really from the blazing heat of the car, or from the countless interviews. Yamapi is smiling at him, and Jin’s eyes wander over every inch of his face, taking in the circles under his eyes, and his crooked teeth, and the small stripe of shimmery make-up he’d missed when he was washing his face from a photo-shoot or wherever he’d just come from.

Yamapi’s staring at him too, eyes examining Jin’s racing suit, and lingering on Jin’s neck, where Jin can feel a bead of sweat slowly crawling its way down his skin. Then Yamapi smiles. “You did it,” he says, and Jin can feel his blood dancing through his veins now, and he’s got that burning feeling like the one he gets when he wants to drive a car, wants to race. But he’s already raced today, and what he wants is...

“How’d you get in here?”

“I’m famous,” Yamapi answers, raising an eyebrow. “Does it matter? You did it.”

“I did,” Jin says. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he says, and there’s so much more he could say, and it’s trapped inside of him, and he remembers the look in Yamapi’s eyes when he climbed out of Yamapi’s car, and...

“I guess we both need to be brave,” Yamapi says, and he gets up from the bench and walks toward Jin. He stops and stands in front of him, hands in his pockets, shoulders bunched up as he looks to the side. Then he meets Jin’s eyes, and licks his lips. “Let me know if I’m reading this all wrong,” he whispers, and then his hands aren’t in his pockets anymore. One of them is wrapped around Jin’s wrist, and tugging him closer, and the other is circling around his back, pressing him into Yamapi’s chest. All Jin can see are Yamapi’s black eyes, and they’re looking into Jin’s, slightly wide and nervous. Jin can’t see the end of this track. All he can hear is the cry for all engines go, and he closes the distance between them, pressing his lips roughly against Yamapi’s. Their noses crash into each other, and Yamapi lets out this tiny laugh that’s a little wild and a little relieved, and then he tilts his head and captures Jin’s lips again, and this time it’s perfect.

Jin wants to be closer. He wants to be so close he’s crawling inside of Yamapi’s skin. He settles for slipping his hands up Yamapi’s t-shirt, and his tongue into Yamapi’s mouth, and the taste is as sweet as victory. His hands wander across the expanse of toned muscles and smooth skin, exploring every dip and swell of Yamapi’s upper body while Yamapi moans breathlessly into his open mouth. His hands brush across Yamapi’s nipples, and the man emits a hiss, and his hands slide across Jin’s shoulders, and scramble for the zipper to Jin’s racing suit. Jin feels the air hit his bare skin before he registers the sound of the zipper coming undone under Yamapi’s desperate fingers. His sweat-soaked skin pebbles in the chill, but then Yamapi is kissing his way slowly down his neck, stopping and sucking at various places as he makes his way down to Jin’s collarbone.

“May I?” he asks, and Jin shivers at the thrill of Yamapi’s hot puffs of breath on his skin.

“Yeah,” Jin says, and then Yamapi pulls on the zipper, exposing Jin’s chest and shoulders to his eyes. Jin closes his eyes, hands braced on Yamapi’s trim waist, as Yamapi sees his entire burn for the first time.

“You’re so beautiful,” Yamapi says, and he’s looking straight at Jin when Jin opens his eyes. And then. Yamapi licks Jin’s collarbone, right where the burn begins, and it tingles, and it’s the strangest feeling Jin’s ever experienced, like being tickled, but it’s also arousing. Yamapi nibbles his way across the marred skin of Jin’s chest, kissing down his arm until he has covered the entire mark with his smooth lips and questing tongue. Yamapi’s mouth opens on Jin’s skin, leaving open mouthed kisses as he leans over, and Jin feels like he’s going to burst if he doesn’t...

He pushes Yamapi back, into the cold metal lockers, hands dragging his shirt up. Yamapi raises his arms obligingly, and Jin throws the shirt to the floor before he traps Yamapi between the locker and his arms, his suit now hanging loosely at his waist as the bare skin of their chests rub against each other. Yamapi winces at the feeling of chill steel, but then he is moaning as Jin sucks one of his nipples into his mouth. Jin lathes his tongue across the pebbled nub, and Yamapi is pushing his hips forward into the air. “Jin,” he says, and his voice is low, lower than Jin has ever heard it. Since their first meeting, Jin has loved the smooth timbre of the other man’s voice, and now it sounds raw, like it’s clawing it’s way out of Yamapi’s throat to Jin’s ears.

Jin’s hands drop from either side of Yamapi to fumble with the clasp to Yamapi’s jeans, and Yamapi takes advantage of his freedom to shove Jin’s suit down further, freeing Jin’s cock. Jin steps out of the suit as it slides down to pool at his feet, and he uses his left foot to push it aside. Yamapi hooks his fingers in the loops of his jeans and slowly starts to pull them down too, but Jin slaps his hands aside, sticking his fingers in the sides of Yamapi’s breifs and tugging the underwear and the jeans down in one fell swoop. Yamapi chuckles.

“It’s not a race, Jin,” Yamapi says, but then Jin leans into him, and he’s too busy inhaling sharply at the feeling of their cocks pressed together to talk.

Jin bites at his jawline, and then swipes his tongue across the bite soothingly in apology. “Everything is a race,” Jin reply, and then thrusts forward, and the friction is magnificent. Yamapi throws his head back, slamming it into the lockers, and Jin laughs even has he pants. “Right now I’m racing to see how fast I can touch all of you.”

Yamapi moans, and it’s loud, and it echoes through the entire locker room, just like his earlier congratulations. “Fuck, Jin,” Yamapi says. “Fuck.”

Jin’s body is alight, and he feels like he could break any track record that stands in front of him, beat any other racer in the world, as long as this feeling is waiting for him at the finish line. This all consuming passion reminds him of the first time he climbed into a T-180 when he was nineteen years old, full of confidence and the desire to feel as much as humanly possible.

Yamapi is the kind of guy who likes to drive his own car, though, and soon enough he’s pushing Jin off of him, using his superior arm strength to turn them around so that Jin is pressed up against the lockers. A lock is digging uncomfortably into Jin’s back, but all he can focus on is the full length of Yamapi along the full length of him, their hard cocks rubbing against each other as Yamapi’s strong arms hold Jin by his hipbones in a submissive position. “Lube,” he whispers into Jin’s ear, and Jin points vaguely at his back on the bench, where he knows there’s Vaseline, which is probably all wrong but Jin doesn’t care.

And then Yamapi is circling the ring of muscle, not tentative but not forcefully either. “Have you ever done this before?” Yamapi asks, and Jin shakes his head in the negative. “Can you trust me?”

Jin looks at Yamapi, and their eyes catch as their lips brush lightly against each other. Jin can feel every word Yamapi says across his lips. “Yes,” Jin breathes, and then Yamapi is pushing a finger in. It hurts, and Jin winces, but Yamapi’s other hand is suddenly wrapped around Jin’s cock. Jin forgets about the finger as Yamapi slowly teases the head with his index finger, and by the time Jin realizes a second finger has joined the first, Yamapi’s made significant headway into stretching him.

Then Yamapi’s fingers brush across something inside of Jin that sends Jin into the same heady rush he feels when he puts his foot on the gas. “Right there,” he whimpers, and he feels Yamapi grin against his lips, and then Jin is sliding his tongue back into Yamapi’s sweet irresistible mouth, and the grin fades in favor of a long, heavy moan.

Yamapi presses against him there, again and again, until Jin’s legs feel like jelly, and Yamapi cups Jin’s ass in his hands as Jin starts to slide down, and Jin wraps his legs around Yamapi’s waist. Using the locker as support, Yamapi holds Jin up with the weight of his body, using his left hand to tilt Jin’s hips and his right hand to guide his weeping erection into Jin’s tight body.

The sound Yamapi makes as he comes to a stop fully sheathed inside of Jin is the best sound Jin’s ever heard. It’s hot and wet and smoky and clean all at once, and Yamapi makes it again and again as he starts pounding relentlessly into Jin, whose back keeps hitting the lockers with each thrust, making them rattle and clank behind him. Yamapi is hitting that spot over and over and over again, and it hurts but it feels so good, and he can feel himself tightening around Yamapi as his own orgasm gets closer and closer. Yamapi has started making these tiny moans in Jin’s ear, and they make Jin burn even hotter and then Jin is coming, all over his stomach as Yamapi cries out his name.

They sink to the floor, then, and Yamapi slips out of him. Jin’s thighs are screaming at him, so he pulls them up, leaning his back against the wooden bench as Yamapi gets on his knees and starts massaging Jin’s thighs tenderly.

“Congratulations on your win,” Yamapi quips, as he pulls Jin up later, dragging him toward to the shower.

Jin laughs, and it’s a free sound, kind of like how the wind sounds weaving it’s way through the loose strands of his hair as he drives down the freeway.

“You should congratulate me on my win, too,” Yamapi says then, and Jin looks at him quizzically. He can’t think of any award shows, or special occasions that Yamapi has been involved in or attended lately.

“What did you win?” Jin asks, and Yamapi smiles at him. His hair is completely disheveled, and his neck is covered in marks, and his skin is flush with the afterglow of sex. He looks amazing, and Jin kinda wants to do him in the shower.

“You,” Yamapi says, looking straight at Jin. “I won you.”

It’s the second time Jin falls in love.

***

“I signed on to a new movie today,” Yamapi says, and Jin raises an eyebrow. Yamapi is sitting on Jin’s workbench, while Jin messes around with the engine in his Honda Civic.

“What’s it about?” Jin asks, sliding out from under the car to look at his lover.

“It’s about drag racing,” Yamapi says. “I was hoping you would, you know, teach me a few tricks.” There’s something mildly suggestive in Yamapi’s tone.

Jin imagines bending Yamapi over the hood of his racing car and fucking him to the roar of its monster engine. He imagines Yamapi spread decadently in Jin’s driver seat, sweat building between himself and the unforgiving leather as Yamapi strokes his own cock. He imagines driving at full speed and coasting around a sharp turn with Yamapi’s lips wrapped around his cock.

“I think I could manage,” Jin says huskily, and Yamapi grins, and Jin focuses on the now, because if he doesn’t pay attention Yamapi will take the lead.

Being with Yamapi is just like driving a fast car, but Jin thinks he can handle the speed. After all, Jin loves the feeling of the wind whipping against his face as he accelerates. And today, Yamapi’s boxers are looking an awful lot like a checkered flag.


End file.
